"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Amidst the mists and coldest frosts he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts
She remembers. She would always remember.
Scars mark the pure white of her legs that had not been there before. They are healed, puckered and furred, but still where they had not been before. Niko would come to notice them after some time since returning to Beqanna...since the cave and the life with her angel but it was all in due time. The painted mare is resting in a nest of wildflowers and lush greenery despite the cool of autumn and the burning golds and reds that flood the rees. She is fast asleep and dreaming with a few twitches of her limbs and her lips. The nightmares of fire seem to chase her and close a space between her and the heat till it nearly reaches her and
-snap-
The sound of a twig breaking rouses her, a cold sweat making her sheen. ”Wha-” The nest of green suddenly withers to a brown mess> The hazel eyed woman looks around her as she breathes heavily. There was no fire, there was no cave, there was no beautiful angel. The painted woman moves to find her feet. She felt awkward as though something was off kilter. The trees seems to sway despite the very light breeze of autumn, their limbs seeming to block out the light rain that fell round her. Nikoline is silently grateful for she could have caught her death in the forest of Taiga.
But still...it did not explain the uncanny feeling of not being alone. Te woman looks to her left and then to her right. There were no equines in sight and yet there are soft whispers floating all around her. ”Hello? Who’s there?” She asks openly with pricked ears. There seemed to so many different voices, talks of sunlight and the change of seasons. The voices are feminine and masculine but all the same as they describe the early winter that was to happen. She thinks she may have even heard her name… and something of rainfall? ”Is someone there?” Her voice is growing a bit more desperate as she asks despite the shapeless voices. Niko frowns slightly, confused and attempting to dam the fear that threatened to overflow. She begins to walk slowly and does not seem to notice out the forest foliage bent to create her a path. All she knew is that she was in Taiga, her head hurt and seemed to be filled with voices. Oh what a way to wake up.
I want you to know that I'm all yours; you and me, we're the same force.
She moves, with utter silence.
Her grace is sublime and she is the paragon of the natural presence in this forest.
And yet, she was the one who's singular actions had set into motion what would cause it to burn.
She used to be the caretaker of these forests, defending the trees, their spirits, their young, and all who lived within these borders. The trees flourished and the ground made rich. Food was plentiful for all, and there was a balance of predator against the prey. All was right in her world - all was lush and green and good.
And then life happened.
Reagan has not stepped hoof inside these lands in so long, and she finds, that with hooded eyes and a wary look, that the trees do not bend for her as they used to. Their whispers are foreign to her now, though she could will them to speak to her if she so desired. However, love born out of fear is not love at all - it is something altogether evil, and Reagan, being neither good nor evil, simply stares up at them sadly, winding her way through the trees, remembering all the days she spent beneath their umbrella.
Autumn has come to Beqanna, and just on the cusp of an indian summer - the trees have only just started turning, but still they fall. A splash of color here, squirrels gathering their stockpiles for winter over there. it seems that, even in absolute squalor, life goes on in the woods - even without a magician to protect them. She is sad, but content. Things are as they should be.
She breathes, taking in a drag of honey-sweet autumn air, and for a moment, forgets herself. she transforms once again into the white wolf who inhabited these woods so very long ago, flexing and feeling the texture of the soil under paws that she forgot she had. Soil that was so familiar to her that she forgot the pleasure of simply living.
She smiles, feeling freer than she has in a while. the white wolf howls, and then shifts again into an altogether different kind of creature. A wolf's body, grown and changed into a grey green dog with the shape of a greyhound, long waves of thick hair hanging off of her in ethereal waves. her feet have changed too; three clawed toes adorn each foot, and a set of petite horns covered in green moss and lichen. She is beautiful and strange, and yet, she is at peace here in the forest - though she knows it is not her home any longer. She steps, crunching the leaves beneath her petite paw, and she hears the voice of another on the wind.
Doe eyes look around, alerted. Reagan halts all movement while she tries to see her assailant. When all she finds is a woman, she smiles. Her voice is not her own. it echoes, disembodied and enchanting. As if from a dream. A warm drunken feeling seeps into her mind as she sees the journey the young painted woman has been on, and she smiles, laying glassy eyes on her company. She had not as yet expected to meet such a woman so soon - but the gods and powers that be know best. It is why she was brought back here, after all.
"Hello Nikoline. I trust you slept well. Welcome to the Taiga."
Amidst the mists and coldest frosts
he thrusts his fists against the posts
and still insists he sees the ghosts
The haze is still linger on the edges of her vision and she is not certain she is awake or dreaming. Life had expanded and imploded all at one and her body is aching in a way that she had not thought possible. Could once simply die from pain alone? The painted woman muses the thought sourly, wincing as her healing legs scream at her in protest to moving...perhaps it would be best to just lay down and die...to let her body crumple into the earth and tiny purple flowers to sprout in the empty sockets of her skull.
"Hello Nikoline-" She turns her head quickly at the mention of her name. Deep green-gold of her eyes almost miss the creature who speaks her name. Niko tilts her head as she wonders if this was the truly dramatic ending of her existence, "I trust you slept well. Welcome to Taiga." Nikoline can feel her eyes expand wide as she realizes she is not dead and she is in fact in Taiga...real Taiga...not a supernatural plane. "Thank you" Her voice is nearly a whisper with the combination of thirst and rasp from her ordeal. The pained mare lowers her eyes to look upon the claws that extends from the horned animal's feet.
"How do you know my name?" She asks flatly as she lifts her autumn eyes to the animal. A sullen weight lays in the pit of her belly, her legs shifting in the spongy floor of moss that curls around her hooves. She does not notice the creeping flora for her attention is to the hybrid creature, cautious and guarded, but not threatening.
I want you to know that I'm all yours; you and me, we're the same force.
Reagan's form is ethereal. She is part forest, part wolf. Part dog, part deer. And she is everything magician in this moment. Her colors begin to rotate like a kaleidescope, slow and unthreatening. Her voice continues to echo as small flowers push through her hair, blooming in a transcendent time warp that she now finds herself in.
"Do not be afraid," she says gently, genuine warmth and care in her voice, if not a little bit of sadness. Such memories were here within these trees for her. So many places she has loved - and been loved. And then reviled. But those days were much too far behind her to dwell on them now. And there was much to do.
"You have awoken here from a deep slumber, but your memories are not a dream. Your travels have brought you here." Reagan turns then, away from Nikoline, her intentions clear that the painted mare should follow her. The trees here were filled to the tip with deep magic, untrusting of their situation. Much like their new guardian. "You may find yourself much changed."
Slowly, as she walks into the heart of the forest, she begins to change. Away from her spirit form, and back into the form of her birth. A grey mare with dark grey points, and bright green eyes. It is a slow change, almost untraceable here in the void. The rippling of her magic is a miasma of color and sensation, one that Reagan is familiar with - but assailing the senses of someone who until recently has been without magic, it would be - almost over sensitising.
How long they walk, it is uncertain. The Taiga is a large forest with many large trees and untold number of plants. The way they bend and talk to each other, creating a carpet of lichen and moss before Reagan - it is as if they have remembered their mistress, and forgiven her for her past transgressions. Reagan would never forget - nor would she ever forgive herself.
"I was once Queen here, and caretaker of this forest. A lifetime ago." She adds that last part, almost as an aside. "And though it has another now," (she speaks of Kolera) "This forest is vast. And needs someone who understands how the trees can talk. Communicate. You will meet Kolera on another day, but you do not have to live life alone now. Unless you choose to, of course."
Rarely does Reagan exhibit such magic all at the same time. Her mind rests inside Niko's thoughts, and she picks apart, seeing what she has seen. "You have much to be proud of, Nikoline."
